cvsc phd

poetry and pictures

[cvanstolk]

Christmas in Vermont

Christmas in Vermont

is everything I imagined,

I think,

and press my cheek to the warm bricks

of the fireplace,

watching the snow collect like stardust

on the deck where this summer

I drank a cold beer

and got a sunburn.

I step over the sofa,

sink into the cushions,

and admire this moment

in the home that my father-

and mother-in-law built —

this warmly lit gingerbread house

where they raised my husband —

and I too am warmly lit with affection

for this season,

this family,

this snow globe of a house,

and of course,

my beloved Vermont.

[cvanstolk]

In Good Company

Badger’s broad, tawny paws drape

over my ankles

and his greying muzzle rests

on my feet.

Carter leans against the headboard,

slowly leafing through the pages

of his magazine,

and breathes in and out

in that reassuring way

that I can’t explain.

We are three calm bodies

piled into bed,

coexisting in these moments before sleep.

And I smile

because I know that I am living

that thing that is being

in good company.

[cvanstolk]

My Washcloths

As the year draws to a close

I want to thank

the washcloths

we bought for a dollar

at the estate sale

in Santa Cruz.

All three are stained and old,

maybe older than we are.

They are every washcloth

you remember.

And just like those

abstract washcloths

of our collective memory,

they are perfect,

dutiful and unfussy.

They do what

washcloths should,

and that is a comfort.

Thank you, washcloths.

[cvanstolk]

Gone Fishing

Right before

I woke this morning

my mind was full

of an image of me

standing at the starry shore

of a dream

with a fishing rod in my hands,

fishing for wakefulness.

I caught the first breath of morning

on my hook

and pulled,

reeling it in, in, into me.

Then, with a deep gasp,

I opened my eyes.

[cvanstolk]

It rained all morning

big fat drops

that pooled on the patio table

and soaked the windows

but the kettle stopped working

and there was no hot mug of lemon tea

around which to wrap chilled fingers

so now I need a bath

with epsom salts

and sandalwood oils

to warm my bones

and settle my muscles

into November.

☔️🛁🍋🍵🍂

[cvanstolk]

Jack-O-Lantern sat in my lap

while we had a frank chat

about who he should be.

He was blank-faced,

but opinionated,

and I more indecisive.

“Make me classic,

but give me character,”

demanded Jack.

I frowned down at him.

“Yes, just like that!” he cried.

I wasn’t convinced.

“How do I make you

both ghoulish and jolly?”

I wondered.

This flummoxed Jack,

so we sat

and thought about it some more.

I rolled him

this way and that,

grunting at his heft.

“There’s no need to be rude,”

he muttered,

completing a 360 turn.

Finally I began working,

lightly scoring his features,

then carving deeply into his leathery rind.

The smell of Halloween

that is fresh pumpkin flesh

filled my nose, satisfying us both.

Then there was a winking eye,

an arrowhead nose,

and a broad, crooked smile.

And when at last

a fat candle flickered merrily within,

Jack grinned up at me,

clearly delighted.

[cvanstolk]

goddamn I love spooky season

[cvanstolk]

[cvanstolk]

Big Dipper is setting

like the sun, but slower.

Night by night descending,

it takes with it the last embers

of summer.

One night I’ll look up

and Orion will return my stare

and I will be surprised to find myself

in the middle of winter.

I don’t know when he rises,

what month that might be.

I never catch him at it,

and when I do finally clock him

he always seems a little bit stern

and disappointed.

I look at these stars,

how they shift and change on me,

and can’t help but think,

“Time has happened to me

again.”

[cvanstolk]

In The Woods

Grief is a malady

of the body

that can be neither bandaged

nor stitched.

So we bleed freely,

hopelessly,

believing no one

who promises the cure

of time.

Dully,

with nowhere else to turn,

we carried our grief

into the woods,

And the woods did

what nothing else had —

it delivered blessed relief

to bodies bent to loss.

There was silence

that pressed

like a cool compress

to burning chests.

Shaded hues of green

soothed vacant eyes

puffy and tired

from tears.

A gentle, whispering breeze,

caressed faces

dulled by pain

and lifted the leaden weight

that had settled

in our bellies.

We stood,

small and hurt as we were,

among ancient trees

who said

nothing,

And it was the nothings

that they said

that showed us

time

and the role that grief plays

in the story

of the universe.

In our awe,

we were quieted,

comforted,

and though the grief remained,

our bodies breathed freely

once more.

[cvanstolk]

Pacifica, CA

[cvanstolk]

I Am Done

[cvanstolk]

Raspberry Triptych

[cvanstolk]

Stunning Kauai, HI 🌺

[cvanstolk]

Acne being a teenage thing was the biggest lie I was ever told.

[cvanstolk]

Ten Years Since College

[cvanstolk]